


What Will Be Left Behind

by arthurmorgan-s-heart (Silverblind)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Clothed Sex, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spoilers, Table Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22394515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/arthurmorgan-s-heart
Summary: *SPOILERS*Robbing the Saint Denis bank will be dangerous - why wouldn’t it be? You know that, but you can’t help being nervous. Arthur tries to help.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	What Will Be Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request fill from my tumblr blog. Uploaded here for convenience - find me on tumblr - arthurmorgan-s-heart
> 
> Original request text: "Hey! I really love your smut so I’m going to request some. Maybe something along the lines of Arthur and reader are anxious as hell the night before a big job (for example the bank job in Saint Denis) so they make love to calm their nerves and to remind each other just how much they love each other"

It’s almost midnight, and Shady Belle is quiet and still. The room you share with Arthur is dark as you push open the door leading to the balcony overlooking the back of the house, letting the moonlight stream in as you come to stand at the banister. The cool night breeze sweeps through the leaves of the trees, and you take a deep breath as you look at the darkened swamp, trying to steady your nerves.

It’s a familiar feeling, this anxiety that finds itself clawing at your heart tonight. You always felt like this, the night before a big job - where everything that could go wrong would run through your mind over and over in an endless loop, making you restless and anxious. And  this would be the biggest job of all. 

The  _ last _ .

Despite your nervousness, you can’t help the flutter of excitement that your heart gives at the thought that, in a matter of weeks, all of this will be behind you. You close your eyes, focusing on the thought that you’ll have a new life, free and safe, with the man you love. You smile, allowing a small part of yourself to believe that, perhaps, everything would be fine, after all.

You open your eyes when you hear the door to Arthur’s room open and close, the rhythm of familiar footsteps thudding against Shady Belle’s worn floors as someone comes to stand at the threshold of the door you’d left open.

“Hey, darlin’,” Arthur says from behind you, and you turn your head to look at him. He seems tired, but he’s smiling as he steps forward, letting his hand brush against yours as he comes to stand next to you. “Thought you’d be asleep.”

You answer with a smile of your own, though the sight of him kindling the dark fears that had haunted you for the last few days anew. God, it would be so easy for him to be killed, or hurt, or captured, or -

The feeling of Arthur draping an arm around your waist and drawing you against his side pulls you from your thoughts, and he kisses your temple, seemingly quieting the storm raging in your mind, if only for a second.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, lips lingering on your skin, and you nod, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you answer. “Nervous, is all.”

“I know,” he says. You feel him kiss the top of your head before laying his cheek against your hair. “S’gonna be okay. Ain’t the first bank we robbed.”

You chuckle quietly, feeling yourself relax slightly.

“No, it sure ain’t,” you reply, lifting your head to look at him, and he smiles reassuringly before turning to wrap both of his arms around you in a warm embrace. You hold onto him tightly, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I just - “ you start, trying you best to keep your voice steady. “I worry, Arthur. About you. About what could happen tomorrow. I don’t - I don’t know if I - “

He pulls away slightly, and you feel his fingers under your chin, raising your head and making you look up at him. You open your eyes, and he’s still smiling, his hand shifting from your chin to your cheek as he leans down to press his forehead against yours.

“I ain’t never gonna leave you,” he whispers. “Whatever happens.”

You heave a quiet sigh, shaking your head slowly as you close your eyes again.

“Sometimes, it just ain’t up to you,” you say quietly. He doesn’t answer, simply tightening his grasp on you as he takes a deep breath before exhaling slowly.

You stand like this for a while, simply holding each other, swaying slightly from side to side as you try not to think of what the next day might bring.

“You know,” Arthur starts eventually, one hand coming up to thread through the strands of your hair in a steady, soothing rhythm, “this time next year, things’re gonna be different. We gonna be far away from here. From all this. And  _ free _ .”

You open your eyes, and you raise your head, meeting his gaze - his eyes are bright and filled with hope. You can’t help but smile at seeing him like this - it seems like years since you’d last seen him so optimistic about anything. You can almost forget the obstacles that await the both of you before you can ever get there.

“Together,” you add quietly, and you feel warmth spread through your chest as he leans down to press a feather-light kiss to your lips, his hands smoothing down your back to rest at your hips before he pulls away slightly, looking at you for a moment before he brings on hand back up to your face, cradling your cheek.

“Always,” he whispers before leaning in, his kiss long and deep and slow this time. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing yourself as close to him as you possibly can, and he tightens his grip on you, kissing you again, and again, reverently, adoringly, as if he had never kissed you before. His hand shifts from your cheek to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, and you moan encouragingly as you feel him take half a step forward, pinning you between himself and the banister behind you. He kisses you ardently, greedily, with all the heat of a man who had finally found a reason to want to live, after years of searching, grieving and drifting. Your hands slip down to his chest, bunching into his shirt, all thoughts of the next day’s robbery and its dangers leaving your mind as you let yourself be consumed by him. 

“Arthur…” you whisper breathlessly in between kisses, and he pulls away just enough to meet your eyes and take in the sight of your fevered eyes and flushed skin before his mouth is on you again, kissing down the side of your neck. You can’t help a quiet moan, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of his head as you feel him press himself even closer to you, his hand leaving your hair to roam down your back to your hip, gripping tight, moving lower still, splaying low on your stomach for a moment before you feel his fingers between your legs. Even through the thick material of your trousers, his touch sends sparks skittering up from your core to your stomach, wrenching a small moan from your throat.

"Shh, darlin'," he whispers, even as he moves his fingers against you, with just enough pressure to send shivers running up your spine, laying hot kisses to the skin of your throat. You spread your legs slightly as you cling to him, silently begging for more as you grind yourself against his hand, and he huffs out a quiet chuckle, lips grazing the hollow of your throat before he comes back up to your mouth for another kiss.

"Thinkin' we should take this elsewhere," he breathes as he parts from you, his hand leaving you to rest at your hip instead, and you nod eagerly, your hands falling away from his chest as you let him guide you the few short steps you need to go back inside. The bedroom is dark, but neither of you notice, too engulfed in each other to care about anything else. He slams the door to the balcony closed before turning back to you, hands finding your hips as he kisses you again. You bring your hands to the collar of his shirt, experly working the buttons holding his shirt closed free as he pushes you further into the room. You laugh breathily at the groan that claws itself out of his throat when he feels you press your palm against his bare chest, your laughter turning into a gasp of surprise when you feel the edge of a table at the back of your thighs, your free hand grabbing at the back of his neck reflexively as you pull away slightly, just enough to shoot him a reproachful look.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he whispers with a low, quiet chuckle before leaning forward to press his lips to the side of your neck as his hands leave your hips to come find the buckle of your belt. It falls open easily under his fingers, and he makes quick work of the buttons of your trousers, groaning when he feels one of your hands brush down over his chest and his stomach, hovering at his belt for just a moment before reaching lower. He growls when he feels you press a hand against him, hips rolling into your palm greedily as he heaves a long, shuddering breath.

“Sweetheart…” he whispers hoarsely as you stroke him through the thick fabric of his trousers, bracing himself with one hand on the table behind you while the other comes to grip your hip tightly, his head falling forward as he presses his lips to the side of your neck. You turn your head to kiss his temple, allowing him a bit more pressure, earning yourself a half smothered groan against your skin that has heat running through every vein in your body, gathering at your center.

He almost whines when you remove your hand, raising his head to look at you with veiled eyes. You meet his gaze as you reach for the waist of your trousers, and you hear his breath catch in his throat when he sees you start to pull them down your legs, along with your underwear. His hands leave you to start working at his own clothes, shrugging his suspenders off his shoulder before making quick work of his belt and trousers. You kick off your boots, stepping out of your clothes, and he’s on you again in half a breath, his hands finding the bare skin of your thighs as he kisses you. Your hands reach up to grab his shoulders, and he lifts you up to sit on the edge of the table, immediately taking his place between your spread thighs as he presses himself as close to you as he possibly can. His lips are still on yours as you feel his hands smooth up your thighs, over your hips and the dip of your waist, cupping your breasts through your clothes before his fingers find the buttons of your shirt. He only has time to unbutton a few before you reach down to his trousers, pulling them down just enough to free him before you wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly. You feel his fingers falter and stop, your shirt hanging half-undone as he unwittingly thrusts into your hand, a deep growl rumbling up from deep within his chest as he closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to get lost in the slow, steady rhythm of your motion. His hands reach down, hooking beneath your thighs and pulling you closer to him as he lowers his head to kiss your throat. You steady yourself with one hand at the nape of his neck, the other still on him as you bring him against you, the feeling of you so close to him making his breath hitch in his throat.

You stroke him for a few more moments, slowly, lazily, until he shifts restlessly, gathering every shred of his remaining will to not simply move forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a pleading groan as he holds himself still as best he can. After a long while, you finally, mercifully let go of him, instead reaching for his hip to pull him closer, and he pushes himself inside you with a low, rumbling groan, echoed by a moan of your own as your hand bunches into the loose fabric of his shirt. He stays still for half a heartbeat before rolling his hips into yours, deep and slow, wrenching a breathless sigh from you, and he does it again, and again, heat gathering low in your stomach as you pull him close. He lays open-mouthed kisses to whatever skin your half-undone shirt allows him to reach as he sets a languid pace, and you close your eyes, your hand letting go of his shirt and smoothing up his back to come rest at the back of his head, your fingers tangling in his hair as you moan quietly with every thrust, feeling yourself being slowly overcome by the warm waves of pleasure that wash through you with every motion. You feel his hot breath against your skin as his lips brush back up to your mouth to kiss you, sweetly, tenderly, even as his thrusts grow harder, faster, and you part from him with a gasp as you feel the heat running through your body constrict into a tight ball in the pit of your stomach, waiting to burst. Your hand comes to cradle his cheek as you open your eyes to meet his, whispering quiet praise as you feel him near his end as well. Soon, he’s squeezing his eyes shut, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours as he grips your thighs tight enough to sting, his breath coming in gasps and moans as he sways just on the edge of his pleasure. The ball in your stomach slowly unravels into fiery tendrils that snake into every corner of your body as you reach down between the two of you, finding your core to trace tight, quick circles at your center, closing your eyes as you feel yourself start to come apart, before, finally, you're pushed over the edge, with a moan that sounds half like his name. The feeling of you tightening around him is what breaks him, and he comes with a too-loud growl, though neither of you can bring yourself to care as he pulls from you to spill himself on the inside of your thighs, murmuring half-mumbled words that you can’t quite catch.

He exhales shakily as he leans down to rest his forehead against your shoulder, still shuddering with the remnants of his pleasure, and you say nothing, simply threading your fingers through his hair gently as you try to catch your breath. A few moments pass by before he lifts his head, meeting your eyes as he slowly brings your legs back down to the table, kissing your temple before he steps away to the washbasin tucked in a corner of the room, coming back to you with a damp washcloth. His touch is gentle as he cleans the both of you, looking back up to meet your eyes when he’s done. Your hands reach for his shoulders, pulling him close to press a long, soft kiss to his lips, and he leans into you, hands finding your waist and holding tight.

“I’ll always be here,” he whispers when you finally part, moving away to meet your eyes. “I’ll always be with you.  _ Whatever happens. _ ”

You smile, bringing both of your hands up to cup his face, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

“I know,” you whisper against his skin - and, somehow, really, you do.


End file.
